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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256458">SWTOR: A Chronicle of Blood and Bone, Part II: Lessons of Dark and Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJPaz/pseuds/PJPaz'>PJPaz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SWTOR: A Chronicle of Blood and Bone [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Jedi, Korriban (Star Wars), Sith Code, Sith Empire, Twi'leks (Star Wars), Tython</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:20:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>17,235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256458</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJPaz/pseuds/PJPaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two.  Two very different young acolytes begin their journey to become Sith - if they can survive the struggle.  Meanwhile, on the planet Tython, the Jedi Order faces an unexpected attack...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SWTOR: A Chronicle of Blood and Bone [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Reward for Weakness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfiction series is an attempt to combine all eight of the class stories from EA/Bioware's "Star Wars: The Old Republic" into a single narrative.  I am doing this without particular regard for official canon or timelines – My goal is not to create a definitive article, but simply to fashion the best overarching story I can from the parts Bioware already created.  Those who have played the game will observe changes from the source material.</p><p>Starting with this installment, this series directly follows the story/stories of the game itself… So consider that a spoiler warning if you haven’t played it.  Though I have endeavored not to directly transcribe anything from Wookiepiedia, this work remains indebted to that site for background lore referenced within the story. Further, much material is directly re-used from "Star Wars: The Old Republic" and its ancillary material.  That said, I will not bind myself to either the “correct lore” or the exact characters and events of the game if it conflicts with what I regard as the best direction for my story.</p><p>There won’t be any particular schedule for updates, as this project is being done “for fun” around other work and projects.  Each update, when it is posted, will be treated as if it was an “episode” of an ongoing series – When an update appears, it will have its own internal narrative structure, so each update will have a degree of resolution in itself.  </p><p>The standard disclaimers apply: All Star Wars material is property of Walt Disney and Lucasfilm.  Star Wars: The Old Republic is a property of BioWare and EA.  This is all just for fun; no copyright infringement is intended.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>A LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY…</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>STAR WARS</p>
<p>The Old Republic – Episode Two</p>
<p>LESSONS OF DARK AND LIGHT</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The SITH EMPIRE tightens its grip on the</p>
<p>galaxy. The GALACTIC REPUBLIC and its</p>
<p>JEDI defenders lie weakened and vulnerable</p>
<p>after the Empire’s successful military campaign.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With a fragile peace negotiated, the Empire</p>
<p>sends all potential Sith to undergo cruel</p>
<p>and deadly trials at its Academy on the</p>
<p>harsh planet of KORRIBAN.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>One of the Empire’s most promising young</p>
<p>warriors has been summoned by an</p>
<p>influential overseer to face the dark</p>
<p>trials much sooner than expected…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At its height, Korriban, the ancestral home of the pure blooded Sith, had been a focal point for the Dark Side.  It had been home to the Academy, and more than that – to the tombs of the first Dark Lords.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then came the war.  The Sith were driven from Korriban, the Pure Bloods scattered.  Any structure that had survived the conflict had not survived the centuries of neglect that followed.  When the Empire finally took back the planet, they had found the Great Tombs reduced to ruins, the Sith Academy pulverized into little more than ash.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Dark Council had made the Academy’s rebuilding a priority.  Though “rebuilding” was a misnomer.  The site had been cleared by slaves, with a new structure built from scratch.  The merest glance made that clear to all – Even with the erosion of wind and sand, it was obvious that the Academy was far newer than anything else on this hostile orb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Overseer Tremel reflected on this as the transport carrying the new acolytes descended.  The landing ramp was lowered, and the candidates emerged.  Many were slaves, from the mines of various Imperial worlds, or untrained civilians, conscripted the instant their Force potential manifested.  Almost all of them would perish quickly.  Which was as it should be.  The Trials existed to weed out the weak, leaving only those powerful and cunning enough to be worthy of being called “Sith.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the midst of these cattle strode a handful of genuine acolytes, young men and women who had trained for years before coming to the Academy.  They swaggered toward the large structure with confidence, quickly finding their assigned leaders even as the conscripts wandered about in a daze.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The last to emerge was Tremel’s charge.  A pure blood Sith, with Force potential such as had not been seen in more than a century.  When Tremel’s contacts alerted him, he had ordered the young man's transfer immediately.  It was unorthodox – in the normal course of events, this subject would have studied Sith philosophies and theories for at least another year.  But Tremel was not going to risk losing an opportunity such as this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As the young Sith stepped into view, Tremel was taken aback.  There was a visible gash around the acolyte's nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Arkarix Krell?” Tremel asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Krell.”  His voice held an undercurrent of entitlement.  A common failing, among Pure Bloods, who were treated as special simply for the wonder of their existence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“May I ask what happened?”  Tremel pointed to his own nose as an indication.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The student bristled.  “A slave.”  He spat the words as a curse.  “She dared to assault me.  Were it not for Academy rules, I would demand the creature’s death on the spot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Academy forbade acolytes from killing each other on the grounds.  For the sake of pragmatism, any transport carrying acolytes was automatically considered Academy grounds. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell indicated the gash on his nose.  “I would have this seen to,” he announced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tremel shook his head.  “I’m afraid that is impossible.  Any wound sustained in the course of training may only receive that amount of treatment needed to sustain life.  Your injuries are lessons.  You are expected to learn from them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Sith!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“In the new Empire, bloodline alone does not determine that.”  Tremel spoke firmly.  “If you survive the Trials, then you will be Sith.  Not before.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell accepted the overseer’s judgment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I will survive,” he announced, “and I will flourish.  It is my birthright.  And before I leave this planet, I will have that slave’s head!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not on Academy grounds,” Tremel said.  Then he gave Krell a slight smile.  “As for what might happen in the tombs…”  He shrugged. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He would not help Arkarix Krell gain his revenge.  But if the acolyte was able to claim it for himself, then that would only make him stronger.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The two waited as the other groups dispersed.  Once they were alone, Tremel pressed a button on his wristband, did a quick scan.  No listening devices.  He nodded to Krell, and they began the walk to the Academy entrance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You already know that you are here ahead of schedule,” he said.  “That was my doing.  The Academy has become infested with the unworthy.  Most perish during the Trials, and we do what we can to encourage that.  But like pernicious insects, some manage to evade all efforts at extermination and walk away calling themselves ‘Sith.’ ”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Disgusting,” Krell declared.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Quite.  It’s only a matter of time before we have an alien or a former slave as a member of the Dark Council.  Something must be done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What is my role?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For the time being, it is enough that you are here.  I will push you through your Trials as rapidly as possible.  I will not aid you in them, understand, but I will do what I can to make sure your time as an acolyte is brief.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That cannot be all,” Krell scoffed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course not,” Tremel said.  “You will know more when the time is right.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He cast a critical eye at the practice blade holstered on Krell’s back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That is a blade of lesser acolytes, unfit for a Pure Blood.  There is an old armory in the Tomb of Ajunta Pall.  A proper Sith warblade awaits you there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will you direct me to the Tomb?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Consider that a part of your test,” Tremel replied.  “Remember: From this point forward, everything is a Trial.  Signs of weakness will not be rewarded.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Understood,” Krell said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tremel wordlessly prompted his student for a final term of address.  Krell added the designation, the word sounding as if it tasted like ash in his mouth:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Master.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Overseer Harkun.  You may address me as ‘Overseer.’  Or ‘my Lord.’ Or ‘Master.’  You are gutter trash, plucked from slums or slave pits because someone sensed an ounce of Force potential in you.  My unenviable task is to discover if any of you are worthy to become Sith. Looking at you lot, I doubt it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna stood with her group of acolytes.  12 students in total.  Her group was entirely made up of former slaves and civilians.  Presumably Harkun had been specially selected to oversee this group – not to train them, but to complete the process of demoralizing those who had been prejudged as unworthy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna knew his type well.  His counterparts had passed through The Pit often during her months there.  They took extra pleasure in applying the lash, but were always the first to panic at the slightest tremor from the walls of the mines.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t go all sentimental on us,” she quipped.  “We’ve only just met.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The full force of Harkun’s glare descended on her.  He was clearly annoyed by her breezy tone.  She made a note to replicate it in all future interactions with him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Reyenna Desme,” he ground out.  He glanced at his PADD, bringing up her details.  “A slave, who killed two guards when her powers were uncovered.”  He moved toward her, keeping his eyes fixed to hers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I hope you aren’t planning to kiss me,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few chuckles came from the other acolytes.  Harkun’s face went red.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pair off!” he shouted.  “Practice blades out!  Let’s see what you scum can do.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna found herself facing a slim, heavily-pierced and tattooed Rattataki.  Her opponent held his practice blade with the assurance of someone who had been fighting his entire life.  Reyenna’s blade felt awkward and unfamiliar in her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He grinned, lunged.  She backpedaled, barely avoiding the blade.  But he had put too much force into his lunge.  It took him two steps to halt his momentum, allowing her an opening to spin and swat his behind with her sword.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An electric crackle, and the Rattataki yelped in surprise.  Elsewhere, other acolytes were crying out as they were stung by electricity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harkun chortled.  “Even a practice blade will inflict pain,” he said.  “Enduring pain gives strength.  Surrendering to it shows weakness.  Continue fighting, until either you or your opponent falls.  Six of you will be on the ground at the end.  Make sure you are not one of them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He looked straight at Reyenna as he said this.  She read his eyes plainly enough.  If she fell, he would not allow her the chance to get up again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Rattataki threw himself at her, caught her by surprise.  She was knocked against the wall.  He lifted his sword, aimed a hard swing at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>For the second time, his uncontrolled power proved his undoing.  She ducked the swing, and he was unable to recover.  She pounded at his back with the practice blade.  The electric shocks sent him reeling to the ground.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He tried to recover, tried to pull himself up.  She could not allow that.  He was stronger than her, and more skilled.  Her only chance was to keep him on the ground, to give him no chance to recover.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She chopped at him as if he was a block of wood, bringing the practice sword down again and again.  After a few more shocks, he let go of his blade.  He curled into a protective ball, moaning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Finish him,” Harkun gritted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna stepped back from her opponent.  “No," she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harkun again closed on her, eyes blazing.  “These are the Sith Trials! There is no reward for weakness or mercy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nor for stupidity,” she replied.  “Acolytes are forbidden to kill each other on Academy grounds.  Punishable by death, no exceptions.  That was spelled out quite clearly on the transport.”  She glanced down at the moaning Rattataki.  "If you want him dead, kill him yourself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harkun grunted.  “You think you're a clever one, don't you, slave?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spat directly into her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If he hoped for a reaction, she didn’t give him one.  She did not even reach up to wipe the moisture from her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am clever,” she agreed.  She smiled warmly at him.  “Thank you ever so much for noticing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harkun swore.  He strode past her to the Rattataki. The acolyte was starting to pull himself up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Harkun pulled out a blaster and shot him three times in the head. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The other acolytes stopped in their dueling, staring wide-eyed at both Harkun and the corpse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Consider this your first lesson,” he announced.  “The Sith reward for weakness.  Now return to your fighting!”  He wheeled back to Reyenna.  “Clean up that mess.  Then find me in my office, and I will assign your first Trial.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turned his back on her, watching the other students.  Waiting to see who would be the next to fall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna shrugged, then pulled the Rattataki’s body up by both armpits and dragged him out of the room.  She was certain it wouldn’t take long for someone to tell her where to deliver this grisly package.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was obvious enough that one thing Korriban would never lack was corpses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "The Order Must Evolve"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Caecinius accompanied Master Orgus to Tython's orbital station.  The aging Jedi Master was leaving on Council business to Alderaan.  Something about infighting among the noble families, which threatened to become a civil war.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate Alderaan,” Orgus grumbled as he waited for his shuttle.  “The nobles are so blinded by old bloodlines and ancient feuds, getting them to actually think is like trying to sculpt a granite statue with nothing but a rusty hammer.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would the Council send you for this mission?” Caecinius wondered.  “With all due respect, Master, there are more…”</p><p> </p><p>“More diplomatic choices?” Orgus snorted.  “Like Master Syo?”  He chuckled, placed a hand on Caecinius’ shoulder.  “I requested this purgatory.  I sense an outside hand at work.  I think the Empire's trying to stir up conflict, get us to go to war with each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does the Council think?”</p><p> </p><p>Orgus snorted again.</p><p> </p><p>“The Council is divided, as always,” he said.  “Master Syo wants to pretend the peace is holding by patching up every crack that forms in it.  Grandmaster Shan wants to maintain the peace, but she’s realistic enough to also prepare for war.  Me?  I’m afraid the war’s already started, and we’re just too blind to see it.”</p><p> </p><p>He fixed Caecinius with a severe gaze.</p><p> </p><p>“Be watchful,” he said.  “The Jedi Order cannot afford another Coruscant.”</p><p> </p><p>Orgus’ transport arrived, and he turned to board it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll see you within the month,” he called.  “Assuming the frustration of dealing with nobles doesn’t kill me first.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>When his shuttle returned to the Jedi Outpost, Caecinius was surprised at the rush of activity below.  Derrin Weller, a former student who was now a Jedi Knight, sprinted from the Temple’s communications center to meet him.  Concern was etched onto the young man’s face.</p><p> </p><p>“Flesh Raiders!” Weller said.  “They are attacking the training grounds!”</p><p> </p><p>The Flesh Raiders were Tython’s only intelligent indigenous life.  If “intelligent” could be applied to them.  They were advanced enough to use simple tools and form raiding parties, but they were unreasoning in their violence.  Master Yuon Par, the Jedi archaeologist, believed they were descendants of the original Jedi, non Force Sensitive offspring who had dissolved into savagery when the planet was abandoned, resorting to cannibalism to survive.</p><p> </p><p>Now that Republic settlements had begun appearing, the Flesh Raiders were no longer cannibals.  Mostly, they ate livestock that wandered from the farms.  Occasionally, a settler would disappear, the bones sometimes found weeks or months later.  Mostly, they avoided the villages, fearing direct combat.  An actual raid was rare.</p><p> </p><p>An attack on the Jedi themselves was unheard of.</p><p> </p><p>“We have reports that they’re armed with blasters,” Weller added. </p><p> </p><p>Caecinius’ frown deepened.  A single Flesh Raider might have stolen a blaster from a settler.  But advanced weaponry in any kind of force?</p><p> </p><p>“They're at the padawan training grounds?” Caecinius confirmed.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.  I’ve sent a request for every able-bodied Jedi Knight to join in repelling them.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m on my way."</p><p> </p><p>Caecinius marched toward the speeders without giving his former student another glance.  He found Master Yuon Par already there, readying a speeder.</p><p> </p><p>“Master Yuon?”  She was Canlyn Dessan’s Master.  Yuon was renowned for her scholarship and archaeological knowledge.  She was not, however, much noted for her combat skills.  "With respect, you should steer clear."</p><p> </p><p>“Canlyn is down there.”  Yuon sounded almost frantic.  “I sent her to access the holorecordings of the first Jedi Masters.  She has no communicator, and is armed only with a training blade.  She will not be prepared for combat!”</p><p> </p><p>“Calm yourself, Master,” Caecinius urged.  “I will find her.  She’ll be safe, I promise.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn Dessan followed the path through the Gnarls, the Wilds surrounding the Jedi Outpost.  The trail wound through the grasslands and over a series of bridges, going back and forth across the River Tythos.  It was not designed to lead directly to any destination, but rather to allow padawans safe and easy access to plains, slopes, and river.</p><p> </p><p>Midway across each of the bridges was a holorecording of one of the original Jedi Masters.  The recordings had been excavated by Yuon Par after the Jedis' return to Tython.  Astoundingly, all four messages were not only intact, but also capable of limited interaction with those who activated them.  It had become a common part of Jedi training for Masters to send their padawans to literally walk the Path of the Jedi, to learn directly from the Order's founders.</p><p> </p><p>The recordings were brief, and spoke in fairly simple terms about founding concepts of impartial justice and galactic peace.  The interactive nature of the recordings encouraged students to offer arguments, to which the Founders would reply.  Canlyn tested this, countering Master Carla Brin’s claim about the need for justice to be free of emotion.</p><p> </p><p>“If you lack compassion or mercy, then justice suffers,” she said.</p><p> </p><p>The recording flickered, then offered Carla’s programmed reply: “Sorrow for the victim or outrage at a crime can blind us.  To see clearly, such feelings must be put aside.”</p><p> </p><p>“To put all feelings aside would surely reduce us to mere robots,” Canlyn argued.</p><p> </p><p>The hologram flickered again, but its response was drowned out by the sound of blaster fire. Canlyn ran toward the sound. She saw her friend, Ashara Zavros, leading a group of padawans in flight from a trio of Flesh Raiders.  The creatures were armed not with knives or spears, but with military-grade blasters.</p><p> </p><p>She acted on instinct.  Her Cathar reflexes allowed her to jump higher than a human, and for longer distances.  She employed that now, giving an extra Force push to close the gap between herself and the assailants in a single leap.  She drew her practice blade while in midair, bringing the blunt wooden blade down on a Flesh Raider’s skull.  The heavy blow sent the Raider collapsing to the ground, blood trickling from one ear. </p><p> </p><p>Canlyn turned to the next Raider, jabbing it in the stomach.  He doubled over.  But the remaining Raider had recovered from the shock of her attack, and was bringing his blaster to bear on her.</p><p> </p><p>Ashara brought down her practice blade on the creature, striking him from behind, between the shoulder blades.  He staggered forward, and Canlyn swept her own wooden sword in an arc that ended at the back of his knees.  He fell, face first, into the grass.</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn reached out with her mind and willed the blasters to fly into the river.  The two Flesh Raiders who were still conscious staggered away, leaving their insensate comrade collapsed at the padawans’ feet.</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn turned to Ashara.  “Thank you."</p><p> </p><p>Her friend grinned back.  “Glad to actually be able to help.  Your attack was amazing, Lyn – Master Caecinius couldn’t have done better!”</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn waved away the compliment.  She checked over the group of padawans.  One young man had a fractured knee.  Walking would be impossible for him, and it would be inadvisable to move him before a medical team got here to stabilize his injury.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you have a communicator?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>Communicators were rare for padawans; the Masters would not want to tempt them with the potential distraction of direct communication.  Ashara did have a distress beacon, however.  She set it up and broadcast the signal for a rescue team.</p><p> </p><p>“Watch over them,” Canlyn told her.  “Keep them safe until you’re evacuated.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not staying?” </p><p> </p><p>“There is something I must do.”</p><p> </p><p>Flesh Raiders were vandals by nature.  If they overtook the bridges on the path, then they would destroy the holorecordings.  The ability to interact, even a limited way, with the original Masters was a vital experience for young Jedi.  Canlyn felt compelled to preserve them.</p><p> </p><p>She raced back to the first bridge and secured Master Garon Jard's recording, which was in a holocron held inside the projector.  She followed the path and quickly secured the recordings for Carla Brin and Ters Sendon, as well.</p><p> </p><p>When she reached the fourth bridge, however, she discovered that she had not been the first to arrive.  The projector was already open, the holocron gone.</p><p> </p><p>“Canlyn!”</p><p> </p><p>Master Caecinius stood at the end of the bridge, lightsaber in hand.  She sensed his adrenaline, knew he had been fighting the attackers.  He approached, his face grim.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you doing?” he demanded.  “Master Yuon is very worried.  Get back to the outpost at once!”</p><p> </p><p>She explained that she had been rescuing holorecordings, then showed him the empty projector.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably another member of the Order,” he said.  “You wouldn’t have been the only one to think about saving them.  Still, good work.”</p><p> </p><p>She filled him in on the location of Ashara’s group.  “The Flesh Raiders are armed with blasters,” she added.  “From what I observed, all of them are.  They can't be acting alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Caecinius absorbed her report, gave a curt nod.  Then turned to follow her directions to the group of padawans.</p><p> </p><p>He found Ashara Zavros arguing heatedly with the others.</p><p> </p><p>“They're attacking our training grounds!  We need to fight!”</p><p> </p><p>The argument stopped dead at his approach.  Caecinius took in the group – The injuries of the one on the ground, the fear and agitation of the rest, the heat of Ashara’s anger.  None of them displayed the calm Canlyn had shown.</p><p> </p><p>“You need to stay put,” he said firmly.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm not injured," Ashara protested. “I’m one of the best duelists in our class, Master Caecinius.  Give me a lightsaber!”</p><p> </p><p>“In your emotional state, I don’t even like trusting you with a practice blade,” he snapped.  “Now sit down and shut up!”</p><p> </p><p>Ashara was shocked into silence at his tone. </p><p> </p><p>Caecinius closed his eyes, focused on a meditation exercise.  He visualized his emotions as unruly string in a very small jar.  He pushed the string down until all of it was contained, then mentally sealed the lid.</p><p> </p><p>“I apologize,” he said.  “But you must know your limitations, Ashara.  If you fall to Flesh Raiders, or give in to your desire for vengeance against them, then you will never become a Jedi.  That would be a loss to all of us.”</p><p> </p><p>He activated his communicator and reported his position, checking on the rescue team.  They had already been dispatched.  Caecinius waited with the students until the shuttle landed.</p><p> </p><p>His communicator sounded, an incoming transmission.  Derrin Weller.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m injured,” Weller reported.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your position?  I’ll come get you.”</p><p> </p><p>“No need.  There’s a team already on its way, and my area is secure.”</p><p> </p><p>The blaster fire was becoming more sporadic.  The attack had been repelled, with only the most stubborn of the beasts refusing to withdraw.</p><p> </p><p>“Caecinius,” Weller said.  “They are coming from an underground entrance.  Some kind of tunnel, leading right into the Gnarls.  I have an approximate position, and it's not far from where you are.  Sending it your way.”</p><p> </p><p>Weller’s information came through.  Caecinius checked the coordinates.  Weller wasn't wrong - It was very close.</p><p> </p><p>“On my way,” he told the man.  “Take care of yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>“May the Force be with you,” Weller replied.</p><p> </p><p>The coordinates led Caecinius straight to the river.  He explored the area and found a tunnel carefully hidden behind a copse of trees.  Canlyn was right – An intelligence was behind this. Never mind the blasters; this concealment was beyond the strategic limitations of Flesh Raiders.</p><p> </p><p>He entered the tunnel.  A handful of Flesh Raiders were inside, already retreating.  At the sight of one lone Jedi, they attacked.  A mistake, one Caecinius quickly made sure was their last.</p><p> </p><p>He heard a sound deeper in the tunnel.  Not Flesh Raider growls, but voices.  He focused on masking his presence from any Force senses, then moved in slowly and quietly.</p><p> </p><p>Deep in the tunnel, he found a padawan, a yellow-skinned Bith.  He was on his knees in front of a human in Jedi robes.  The Jedi had a blaster leveled at the student, who was begging for his life.</p><p> </p><p>The man sneered.  “Your life was over the moment you set foot here.”</p><p> </p><p>“But you are a Jedi,” the Bith protested.  “Why would you kill me?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s quite simple.  The Order must evolve to embrace the strong.  And you, Unaw Aharo, are weak.”</p><p> </p><p>Caecinius activated his lightsaber, letting the blue glow illuminate his face.  “Why don’t you try me?” he asked.</p><p> </p><p>The man spun toward him, firing his blaster.  Caecinius deflected the bolt easily.</p><p> </p><p>“I know who you are,” the man said, grinning.  “You’re dangerous.”</p><p> </p><p>"Very dangerous," Caecinius agreed.  The anger threatened again.  He pushed it back down, focused on control.  “Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“My name is Calief,” the man replied, “and I am not alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Caecinius heard the Flesh Raider howl just in time to duck its blow.  Had the creature used the blaster it had been given, it might just have cut him down while his back was to it.  But Flesh Raiders are creatures of instinct, and it had run at him with its claws extended.</p><p> </p><p>Caecinius rolled to the ground, came up with his lightsaber at the ready.  It took no more than two sweeps of his blade to dispatch them - a few seconds.  But that was time enough.  When eh looked around the tunnel, Calief was gone.</p><p> </p><p>“Where did he go?” he demanded of the cowering Bith padawan.</p><p> </p><p>Unaw Aharo shook his head.  “I didn’t see,” he said.  “It was all… so fast.”</p><p> </p><p>Ceacinius swore, punched at his communicator.   He expected Weller to pick up.  Instead, Master Syo and Master Orgus appeared in front of him.</p><p> </p><p>“I see how it is,” Orgus grunted.  “I hop on a shuttle, and chaos ensues.”</p><p> </p><p>“No chaos, Master Orgus,” Syo replied, his unflappable calm intact.  “The Flesh Raiders have been repelled.”  His gaze settled on Caecinius, taking in the padawan behind him.  “You appear to have been busy.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Flesh Raiders came in through this tunnel,” Caecinius told them.  “But they weren’t working alone.” </p><p> </p><p>He described his encounter with Calief, including the Flesh Raider attack that had allowed the man to escape.</p><p> </p><p>“Troubling,” Orgus grunted.  He glanced at Syo.  “I told you they weren’t just mindless beasts!”</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Master Orgus," Syo sighed.  "And I am sure you're much too devoted a Jedi to spend the next ten years saying ‘I told you so.’ “</p><p> </p><p>Orgus snorted.  "Don't count on it."</p><p> </p><p>Syo turned to Caecinius.  “Seal the tunnel, then you and… What is your name, Padawan?”</p><p> </p><p>The young Bith seemed awed at being addressed by a member of the Council.  “U-Unaw Aharo, my Lord.”</p><p> </p><p>Syo smiled warmly.  “Unaw, yes.  Master Jaric speaks highly of you.”  Unaw’s mouth stood agape at the compliment.</p><p> </p><p>"The two of you will report to the Council," Master Syo continued.  "Clearly, there is much to discuss.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Wisdom of the Code</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Tomb of Ajunta Pall turned out to be quite easy to find.  Slaves excavated the entrance to the ruin less than 1,000 meters from the landing pad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Arkarix Krell moved past them, looking neither at the slaves nor their pathetic guards.  Men so weak they had to abuse hopeless wretches in order to wring a taste of strength out of life.  Such men were little more than slaves themselves, and every bit as disposable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Tomb was crawling with K’lor’slugs.  Giant, carnivorous worms whose mouths were actually wider than their bodies.  Krell’s practice blade was ill-suited to carving through them.  His Force training had been thorough, however.  He lifted boulders that blocked the Tombs’ passages and hurled them into the slugs, crushing them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walked deeper into the Tomb.  He scanned with his mind for the promised warblade.  The weapon called to him.  It had slept too long, and it hungered for blood.  All he had to do was follow its energy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He expected some kind of puzzle, perhaps a Sith trap that needed to be sprung to release the blade.  Instead, it sat in the open.  A lightsaber, waiting to be activated, calling to him to put it to use.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He swept the area with his senses.  He detected nothing.  He carefully scanned the room with his physical vision, in case the trap was mechanical.  Sometimes, the simplest methods were the most effective.  Again, he found nothing.  Finally, he decided that if there was a trap, the only option was to spring it and face it down.  He reached out and took hold of the warblade.  He waited for a rumble from the earth or for the room to begin collapsing around him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No collapse occurred.  No monsters were unleashed.  He lifted the weapon, activated the blade, and watched in wonder as its crimson energy crackled before him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am your Master,” he said aloud.  “I will give you blood, but never forget – You serve me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A surge of energy, as if the blade was answering his statement.  Krell studied it, felt on the whole that he was pleased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was a weapon worthy of a Sith.</p>
<p><br/>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In another Tomb, one that had been fully excavated long ago, Reyenna Desme was working on her Trial.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If you could call it that.  After she had disposed of the Rattataki corpse, she had found Overseer Harkun.  His assignment?  To find an old man named Spindrell, who lived in one of the many tombs.  Spindrell would pass judgment on her, at which point she would report back to the Academy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Well, at least it gave her a short break from her murderous teacher.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She found Spindrell in the Tomb’s burial chamber.  A half-dozen young men and women knelt in rags on the floor, while the old man was seated on a platform at the top of a set of heavily decayed stone stairs.  A wheezing noise came from him.  Was he coughing?  Laughing?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then she realized the truth.  He was snoring.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shook Spindrell roughly, rousing him from his sleep.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What?  What?”  He looked around wildly.  His watery eyes found her.  He sighed.  “Oh, it’s that time again, is it?  What is your name, slave?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna wondered how Spindrell knew she was a slave.  Had Harkun contacted him?  Was this Trial a setup, a conclusion that she was unworthy already determined? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If Harkun believed she would accept that without a fight, he would be in for a surprise.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Reyenna Desme of Balmorra,” she replied.  “I am not a slave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then you’re a fool,” Spindrell said.  “We’re all slaves here, my dear.  You are a pretty one, though.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leered, revealing that what teeth he still had were both yellow and broken.  Reyenna considered slapping him, but he was so frail that she feared the blow might kill him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am no one’s plaything,” she said firmly.  “I advise turning your eyes elsewhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He cackled, clapped his hands in glee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Strength!” he crowed.  “Oh, it has been such a long time since they sent anyone here who had spirit.”  He leaned forward, a shrewd look in his eyes.  "But you made one mistake, my dear.  You turned your back on potential enemies."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna turned as the ragged group from below ascended the stairs, reaching for her.  Their eyes were wild, and spittle hung from their lips.  If they overcame her, she did not consider it unlikely that they would eat her remains.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She drew her practice blade and swung wildly.  Her attackers were driven back by the impact and the electric shocks – but not for long.  The electricity in the blade was enough to sting, but it did not actually incapacitate.  She was unskilled with the sword, and was already growing tired.  Their hands would be on her soon enough – fingers whose uncut nails would feel like talons tearing into her flesh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt a rush of panic.  She grabbed hold of that fear and let it go.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The air exploded around her.  The attackers were thrown back to the rock walls of the Tomb.  They fell to the ground.  The lucky ones whimpered in pain, but a few twitched where they fell, then grew still.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She turned back to Spindrell, raising the blade above her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Stop!” the old man cried, lifting a protective hand above his head.  “You have passed the test!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She lowered the practice sword slowly.  Snot poured from the old man’s nose, loosened either by his fear or excitement.  He wiped it away with a bare arm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This group.”  He indicated the fallen.  “They are former acolytes, rejected by the Sith.  This was their second chance.  Had any of them killed you, they would have been allowed to take your place.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They wouldn’t have lasted long,” Reyenna said, glancing at their malnourished bodies.  “Harkun would have destroyed any of them in a day.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old man cackled.  “Of course he would have!  But it would been an honorable death.  Better than life as a reject.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna shrugged.  “Life is always better than death,” she said.  “Honor doesn’t come into it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are young,” the old man said.  “Someday you may draw a different conclusion.  Still, you passed your Trial, so here is your reward.  The Sith Code.  Commit it to your memory, nurture it with your fear and anger, and you will gain the strength to crush your enemies.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He leaned forward, his voice becoming deeper and more powerful as he spoke.  Reyenna had the sense that he was passing on knowledge that was sacred – or so sacrilegious as to be the equivalent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“Peace is a lie.  There is only passion.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Through passion, I gain strength;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Through strength, I gain power;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Through power, I gain victory;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Through victory, my chains are broken.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>The Force shall free me.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Reyenna realized she was holding her breath as he spoke.  The words made her feel something.  Exactly what, she could not say.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spindrell coughed.  A ball of phlegm emerged from his throat, which he spat onto the ground.  He seemed to shrink back into the pathetic old man of before, the moment of power gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Remember this,” he said.  “Harkun may raise his fist to strike, but it is Darth Zash who decides where the blow lands.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna looked at him quizzically.  “Darth Zash?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We all have our Masters,” he said.  “Darth Zash is Harkun’s.  Endure these Trials, and you may yet turn that relationship to your advantage.  Now go.  I am weary.”  He mumbled something else, then closed his eyes.  A second later, he was snoring again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna turned toward the exit.  <em>Darth Zash</em>.  She turned the name over in her mind.  That one piece of information, at least, should prove useful.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Jedi High Council was made up of twelve Masters, those deemed to be the wisest and the most powerful of the Order.  At its height, the Council had directly advised the Republic Chancellor, actively guiding the direction of the Republic from behind the scenes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the fall of the Great Jedi Temple on Coruscant, however, no funds had been granted for the surviving Masters to rebuild.  Under the leadership of Grandmaster Zym, Satele’s predecessor, the Jedi had returned to their ancestral home on Tython, turning away from galactic politics.  The move had not come without some heated internal debate.  The return to Tython had allowed the Order to replenish much of its lost strength, while at the same time reconnecting with its ancient origins.  Some, like Master Orgus and Master Jaric, however, believed this came at the cost of the present.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Satele sometimes favored one side of the argument, sometimes the other.  The benefits of the retreat to Tython were unmistakable… But so were the costs, as the Order's waning influence could be seen in the Republic’s own internal decay.  The Republic was growing weaker, and behind their galactic curtain, who knew what fresh horrors the Sith were preparing?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It did not take a Jedi Master to detect the hand of the Empire in the recent assault.  An outside force, organizing the Flesh Raiders, giving them weapons and direction and setting them on the Jedi? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We must not leap to conclusions,” Master Syo cautioned.  “One hardly needs to leave Republic space to find criminal activity, or resentment against our Order.  And \there are the organizations in the neutral territories, such as the Hutts.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaric Kaeden, one of several Council members present only holographically, scoffed at the suggestion. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Hutts wouldn’t risk a direct assault against us,” he said.  “Even the Families who ally with the Empire for power act only from the shadows.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I agree that it is too overt for the Hutts.” Bela Kiwiks, a Togruta Master who was there in person.  In an unorthodox move, she had requested that her padawan, Kira Carsen, be allowed into the meeting.  Kira was a promising student, very near the end of her trials, and Bela saw potential in her to join the Council someday.  Satele had granted the request.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She now wondered if that had been a misjudgment, as Kira cut into the Masters’ conversation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why are we even talking about Hutts?” the young woman asked, eyes flashing with indignation.  “The Empire’s hand in this is obvious – We need to do something!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bala continued to speak as if Kira’s interruption had never occurred.  “Fortunately, Unaw Aharo, the young padawan who was threatened, had the foresight to record his encounter with the Flesh Raiders’ human leader,” she said. “He may have worn the robes of a Jedi, but there is no record of him ever receiving Jedi training.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Robes are easy enough to come by,” Orgus grunted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We have all sensed a growing darkness,” Satele observed.  “Perhaps it is finally revealing itself?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Drawing conclusions with incomplete information is the act of a fool, not a Jedi,” Master Syo said, his voice calm but firm.  “Let us talk with the rest of our witnesses.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Council called in Canlyn Dessan.  The young Cathar stood nervously before them.  Her head was bowed respectfully as they questioned her about her rescue of Ashara Zavros’ padawans, then her retrieval of the holocrons and her discovery that one of them was missing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The final recording,” Canlyn said.  “Master Caecinius expressed hope that it was retrieved by another member of the Order.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Satele shook her head gently.  “I fear not,” she said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The recording was of Rajivari,” Master Syo informed her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn could not suppress a reaction of surprise.  She let out a low, instinctive hiss.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Bela confirmed. “The first Fallen Jedi.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rajivari was a cautionary tale raised during every padawan’s study.  One of the founders of the Jedi Order, he had come to disagree with the direction of the Order.  While the other Founders had valued peace, Rajivari saw strength in conflict.  While the others valued reason over emotion, Rajivari believed that following emotion would ultimately lead to greater power. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the end, he had raised an army and attempted an armed insurrection against the Jedi Order.  The rebellion had failed, but in death Rajivari gained more followers, who nurtured his teachings in secret.  Eventually, when the Jedi went out among the stars, some of those followers had found their way to Korriban, where their teachings spread to the ancient Sith.  Thus planting the seeds of the conflict that continued to this day.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s just a recording,” Orgus said.  “A brief message, like the others, with a handful of preprogrammed responses.  Why the worry?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Because if that is all that it is,” Bela said, “why go to the trouble of stealing it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Satele turned back to Canlyn.  “Regardless, the Order retains three of the four ancient messages from the Masters,” she said.  “That is thanks to you.  It is also thanks to you that we did not lose a group of padawans to the assault.  Ashara Zavros believes that without you, they would have fallen.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ashara saved me as well,” Canlyn replied.  “The Flesh Raiders would have overwhelmed me had she not come to my aid.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Satele nodded acknowledgement.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Padawan,” she said, a tone of dismissal in her voice.  “Your service has been noted.  The Council recommends you spend the next hour in the meditation chambers.  A confrontation such as the one you survived can disrupt emotional equilibrium.  Once you are done there, you may return to Master Yuon.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn bowed, thanked the Council, and withdrew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An impressive student,” Master Syo observed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Orgus laughed.  “Yeah, and don’t think she doesn’t know it.  But she did well today.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Council had saved its most important witness for last.  Caecinius entered.  He stood before the Council, striving for a posture of patience, but Satele could sense the restlessness within him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You killed many Flesh Raiders today,” she observed.  “Taking a life affects the Living Force – and also affects the one who does the killing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My actions today were driven by the situation, not by emotion,” Caecinius replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is not in question,” Satele said.  “But you struggled with your emotions during the battle, did you not?  Fear, anger, hate.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I struggled,” he admitted.  “But I maintained control.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Orgus cut in, impatient.  “Caecinius acted as was necessary to protect the Outpost and the padawans,” he said.  “He has my confidence.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His voice was as firm as it was grumpy.  Satele conceded the point and moved on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tell us about this human who was leading the Flesh Raiders."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Caecinius recounted his confrontation with Calief, and his escape. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know if he was actually a Force user,” he admitted.  “He wore the robes of a Jedi, but he carried a blaster.  He made his escape when the Flesh Raiders attacked me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No ships have left Tython,” Master Syo noted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Which means he’s still here,” Caecinius said.  “Plotting his next move.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room fell into silence, all of them absorbing the implications of that statement.  Bela’s padawan, Kira, was the one to give voice to their unease.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well.  That certainly brightened the room, didn’t it?”</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Where the Blow Lands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Harkun may raise his fist to strike, but it is Darth Zash who decides where the blow lands.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Spindrell’s words resonated inside Reyenna’s head as she returned to the Sith Academy.  Darth Zash - The two figures who had taken her from The Pit had mentioned that name.  Who was this person?  What deeper game had she found herself in? </p><p> </p><p>It seemed evident from Harkun’s attitude toward her that her life likely depended on the answers.</p><p> </p><p>Kory, one of the other acolytes, hovered anxiously in the hallway, clearly waiting for her.  A thin slip of a girl, she seemed timid by instinct.  In The Pit, someone like her would have been able to survive only by attaching herself to a stronger protector.</p><p> </p><p>Which, Reyenna guessed, was exactly what the girl was now attempting.</p><p> </p><p>“The whole class is gathered,” Kory said nervously.  “Harkun’s waiting for you before he begins.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course he is,” Reyenna drawled.  “After all, I’m his special favorite.”</p><p> </p><p>She started to move on, but Kory darted in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be OK,” Kory told her.  “I mean, he can’t kill us all, can he?”</p><p> </p><p>Yes, definitely searching for a protector.  A role Reyenna had no inclination to fill.</p><p> </p><p>She flashed a wide grin.  “Tell you what,” she said.  “I'll snatch a knife from the kitchens.  You distract Harkun, and I’ll come at him from behind.  Slit his throat before he even knows what’s happening.”</p><p> </p><p>Kory’s eyes widened, and she backed slowly away.  “Um, OK,” she said.  “I guess you can take care of yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Reyenna couldn’t fully suppress her laugh as the girl all but ran back to the training room.</p><p> </p><p>Eight acolytes waited with Harkun.  Reyenna guessed the other two had not survived their Trials.  Harkun did not even feign patience as she entered the room.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, our latecomer,” he sneered.  “Did you get lost on your way back from the Tomb?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all,” Reyenna said breezily.  “It was just such a lovely day, I wanted to take the time to enjoy the dirt, the sand, the blood, and the sound of distant screams.”</p><p> </p><p>Harkun glared at her, as if testing her for signs of mockery.  She maintained her pleasant smile and stared forward.</p><p> </p><p>He grunted.</p><p> </p><p>“Acolyte Kory – Step forward!”</p><p> </p><p>The girl stepped nervously out from the group.  Harkun gave her an uncharacteristically gentle smile, as if to relax her.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t complete your Trial, did you?  Tell the truth, now.”</p><p> </p><p>Kory swallowed thickly.  “The K’lor’slug nest was too well guarded,” she said.  “I couldn’t reach it to retrieve an egg.  There was a trooper there – The slugs tore him apart before eating him.”  She looked as if she might faint just recalling it. </p><p> </p><p>“That must have been a horrifying sight,” Harkun said, his tone sympathetic.</p><p> </p><p>Kory nodded.  She hesitantly answered Harkun’s smile with a weak one of her own.  <em>Pivoting to an even better protector</em>, Reyenna gathered.</p><p> </p><p>Harkun laid a sympathetic hand on the girl’s shoulder.  She looked into his eyes, her own wide and watery.  “I’ve never seen anything like it before."</p><p> </p><p>Harkun gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.  “Fear not, acolyte,” he said.  “You will never see anything like it again.”</p><p> </p><p>Smoke rose from beneath Harkun’s hand, and the smell of charred flesh filled the room.  Kory let out an agonizing scream.  Harkun released her, and she fell to her knees at his feet.</p><p> </p><p>He extended his fingers toward her.  Blue lightning shot out.  She twitched and thrashed helplessly on the ground.  She whimpered, pleaded for mercy.  Harkun responded with mockery.</p><p> </p><p>“ ‘Mercy, Overseer.  Mercy!’ ”  He laughed.  “You are a weak, pathetic rodent.  Instead of sending you here as a student, they should have sent you as target practice for the troops.  You may have been of minimal use, then.”</p><p> </p><p>He extended both hands, and blue lightning engulfed the girl.  The room was engulfed in that scent of charred meat.  One young acolyte fainted.  Harkun glanced at the boy.  Making a mental note of his squeamishness, Reyenna suspected.</p><p> </p><p>What was left of Kory was barely recognizable – A heap of burned flesh in an acolyte’s uniform.  Harkun raised his head, glaring at the rest of them.</p><p> </p><p>“One member of this class will become Darth Zash’s future apprentice,” he announced.  “One member of this group will not only pass their Trials, but will travel from here to Dromund Kaas to learn the deepest secrets of the Dark Side.  But it will not be any of you worms.”</p><p> </p><p>A hooded figure emerged from the shadows behind Harkun.</p><p> </p><p>“Meet our newest acolyte,” the overseer said.  “Ffon Althe.”</p><p> </p><p>Ffon threw back his hood, and the acolytes around Reyenna gasped.  The newcomer was a Pure Blood Sith.</p><p> </p><p>“Look on him!” Harkun announced.  “No connections in the galaxy – Just pure Sith blood!  This is Lord Zash’s future apprentice, not filth like you.”</p><p> </p><p>Reyenna stepped forward, grinning.</p><p> </p><p>“I like Pure Bloods,” she said.  “I had a taste of one’s nose on the transport here.  Pleased to meet you.”</p><p> </p><p>She extended her hand toward Ffon.  The Pure Blood stared at her hand as if it was covered in particularly disgusting goo.</p><p> </p><p>“You stay, slave,” Harkun barked to her.  “The rest of you are dismissed.”</p><p> </p><p>The class hurried out of the room.  Ffon was the last to leave, fixing Reyenna with a death glare on his way out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“He seems fun,” Reyenna observed.</p><p> </p><p>Harkun brought himself up to his full height, looming over her.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me, slave.  What did you think of Spindrell?  Speak honestly.”</p><p> </p><p>"Well, the lice in his beard are a nice touch.”</p><p> </p><p>Harkun grinned meanly.  “So even the likes of you can recognize that he’s a lunatic,” he snarled.  “His approval means nothing.  You are filth, and you will die.  Am I clear?”</p><p> </p><p>Reyenna beamed back at him.  “Clear as an unmuddied lake."</p><p> </p><p>She kept a happy tone in her voice and maintained her smile, keeping it firmly fixed on Harkun.  After a moment, he became uncomfortable and began to back away.</p><p> </p><p>“That is all,” he snapped.</p><p> </p><p>She kept smiling at him as her eyes flicked over to Kory’s body.  “Want some help with that?” she asked.  “I know where the bodies go, now.”</p><p> </p><p>Harkun’s already ruddy complexion darkened to a deep purple.  “Get out!” he barked.</p><p> </p><p>Reyenna left the room at a leisurely gait, leaving Harkun to stew in his own rage.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Master Yuon had company when Canlyn came to her quarters.  A large figure with a lizard-like head, clawed hands, and sharp needle-like teeth.  Canlyn recognized his species from her studies. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Trandoshan.  A race of highly-evolved hunters.  Their belief system revolves around a “Scorekeeper” who grants points for honorable kills.  Intelligent, but violent and dangerous by nature.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>They were deep in conversation, and did not immediately notice Canlyn’s entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s out of my hands, Qyzen,” Yuon was telling the Trandoshan.</p><p> </p><p>“ ‘Out of hands,’ ‘Can do nothing,’ “ the Trandoshan growled in its guttural tongue.  “From you, is strange to hear.”</p><p> </p><p>Yuon started to reply.  “I haven’t – ”  She saw Canlyn and broke off.  “Padawan, come in!  This is Qyzen Fess, an old friend.  He’s here on a hunting expedition.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hunting?” Canlyn said.  “What would you be hunting on Tython?”</p><p> </p><p>Qyzen did not answer, but gave a polite bow.</p><p> </p><p>“Is welcome, small hunter,” he said.  “Must go.  Have scouting, before light changes.  Scorekeeper watch over you.”</p><p> </p><p>Then he was gone.  Canlyn noted that his footsteps made no sound, and that his eyes were constantly moving in all directions.  Instincts honed by years of hunting, no doubt.</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn turned to her Master.  “I have never seen a Trandoshan in person before,” she said.  “It is surprising, for one to visit Tython.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wanted you to meet him yourself,” Yuon said, “before rumors prejudiced you.  Even some on the Council disapprove of my friendship with Qyzen, but he is an honorable man and a true friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your friend doesn’t seem entirely happy with you right now,” Canlyn observed.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Yuon agreed.  “He is not.”</p><p> </p><p>She did not expand on the topic, turning instead to Jedi business.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for saving the holocrons,” Yuon said.  “We lost so much after the Fall of the Great Temple.  We must not lose our history, as well.”</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn bowed her head, acknowledging her Master’s thanks.  “Would that I could have retrieved all of them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Yuon said.  “Grandmaster Shan said that you were informed about the missing recording.”</p><p> </p><p>“Master Rajivari,” Canlyn confirmed.  “You do not believe it was a random theft.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t,” Yuon replied.  “I was opposed to putting the holorecordings on display so quickly.  The holograms’ interactivity is quite limited – more limited than the capabilities of the holocrons at their core.  I believed there were additional secrets within the recordings.  The Council overruled me, feeling it more important in this time of rebuilding to connect students with the Order’s origins.”</p><p> </p><p>“You believe there is a hidden message?” Canlyn proposed.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps.  Rajivari was cunning and formidable, and – worst of all – utterly sincere in his beliefs.  Whatever might be hidden within that holocron, I fear it might lead others to the Dark Side.”</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn paced, reflecting on that.</p><p> </p><p>“An enemy would surely have known the Flesh Raiders would have no chance of taking the Outpost,” she said.  “Do you think the recording was the true goal of the assault?”</p><p> </p><p>“I do not know, Padawan.”  Yuon sighed wearily.  “The Council’s attention is on the human that Master Caecinius faced in the tunnels.  They aren’t terribly concerned about a single missing holorecording.”  Canlyn was startled at her Master's implied criticism of the Council. </p><p> </p><p>“It falls to us to recover Rajivari’s message,” Yuon continued.  “I want you to go to Kalikori village.”</p><p> </p><p>“The Twi’lek settlement?”</p><p> </p><p>Kalikori village was one of several settlements that had risen up around the Outpost.  Twi’leks from a minority religious sect, who had fled religious persecution on their home world.  When the Republic had denied their petition to settle on Tython; the Twi’leks had done so anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Many of the Twi’leks resent our Order,” Yuon said.  “The Republic requested that we grant them no direct aid, and they have witnessed us defending other settlements from Flesh Raiders while leaving them to their own devices.  If I’m right, someone in that village knows something.  Gain their trust, and find the recording if you can.  I’ve spoken to Master Ryen, and he has granted permission for Ashara to accompany you.”</p><p> </p><p>Canlyn inclined her head. </p><p> </p><p>“As you say, Master.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Lesson in the Tomb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Another laughably simple so-called Trial had awaited Arkarix Krell in the Academy’s detention area.  He was to judge and sentence three prisoners: an assassin who had made the mistake of unwittingly targeting an Imperial spy; a Sith soldier whose misjudgment during a minor uprising had led to the deaths of Imperial soldiers and, worse, the weakening of the Empire’s hold on an outer planet; and a Neimodean smuggler accused of forgery. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The judgments were easy.  The assassin was skilled, and had done no harm to the Empire; Krell had her sent to Imperial Intelligence, where her talents could serve the Sith.  The soldier had clearly passed the point of useful service; Krell executed him.  As for the smuggler, Krell determined he was unworthy of his attention; he ordered him sent back to the cells to rot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reported his decisions to Overseer Tremel.  His teacher was pleased with the first two of his choices, particularly his decision to send the assassin to Intelligence.  However, he had harsh words for Krell’s refusal to deal with the Neimodean.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He was an insect,” Krell replied.  “I ignored him the way I ignore rocks on a path.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An ignored rock can cause you to stumble,” Tremel replied.  “The Neimodean was unimportant, but that was the point.  You will gain no favor by allowing even the tiniest problems to fester.  Whether a matter is trivial or vital, you must always respond decisively.  Until you understand that, you will never truly be Sith.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The only Trials you have assigned me have been trivial,” Krell snapped.  “My blade thirsts.  Give me a chance to bloody it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tremel looked him up and down, evaluating him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Perhaps you are ready, at that,” he said.  “Understand this.  I brought you here early, and have shown you favor.  This makes you a target.  No one here should be considered a friend or an ally.  You must be constantly prepared to defend yourself.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Sith,” Krell replied simply.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well,” Tremel said.  “Then I believe you will find your next assignment more fulfilling.  In the caverns of Marka Ragnos is the beast he left to guard his legacy.  The beast is ferocious and bloodthirsty.  You will slay it, and return to me with its head.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell grinned.  This was a more fitting test.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“One more thing,” Tremel said.  “Your slave friend, the one who left her mark on your nose?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell’s grin vanished.  “What of her?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Her overseer has also sent her to the Tomb of Marka Ragnos.  She is on her way now.  If you are quick, it is possible that you may enjoy a reunion.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell inhaled sharply.  A chance to have his vengeance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kill her or don’t,” Tremel said.  “It is of no consequence to me.  But if you engage, make sure you do so decisively.  That is all.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna trudged to the Tomb to fulfill Harkun’s next challenge.  “An intellectual puzzle,” he had dubbed it.  She was to retrieve a Sith holocron from the Tomb of Marka Ragnos. Harkun had grinned as he provided details.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The holocron is sealed within the Tomb’s monument chamber,” he told her.  “It was unearthed a year ago.  When the slaves tried to retrieve it, they all died.  The Dark Council decided to leave its recovery as a Trial for acolytes who were deemed… disposable.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She answered his grin with the bright smile that she knew he hated.  “Sounds like fun,” she announced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Inwardly, she wondered how she could hope to release its seal.  Kory’s fate showed what awaited if she came back empty-handed.  The only alternative was to flee, to live like the wretches who deserted the training.  She pictured herself as one of Spindrell’s servants, and shuddered at the thought.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>She made her way to the Tomb’s entrance.  She was surrounded by the ongoing excavation work, as slaves cleared rocks under the watchful eyes of their guards.  They all stopped in their work to stare at her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“They know their own.  They can see what you truly are.”  A scornful voice from behind her.  A familiar voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She turned, and saw the Pure Blood Sith from the transport.  The one whose nose she had bitten after he had mocked her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>So this day can get worse, after all</em>.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She plastered her fake-friendly smile on.  “How nice to see you again,” she said warmly.  “I never did catch your name.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He reached down to his belt – not for a practice blade, but for the hilt of a lightsaber.  The red beam spat energy at her as it extended.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My name is Arkarix Krell, and I am Sith,” he intoned.  “This is my warblade, taken from the Tomb of Ajunta Pall.  It thirsts for blood, and it calls for yours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He advanced toward her.  She hastily drew her practice sword – a pathetic defense, but still better than bare hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Maybe she could even the odds by setting him off balance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your blade calls for my blood?” she repeated.  “How long has your sword talked to you?”  She whispered conspiratorially.  “It doesn’t tell you to do things, does it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell let out an angry yell as he swung his blade.  Slaves scattered in a panic.  The swing was wild, as Reyenna had hoped.  She easily evaded by darting backward.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“My, you are an angry one,” she observed.  “You just need to work a little on the concept of aim.  I’m standing right here.  How can you possibly miss me?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Shut up and fight!” Krell snapped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He aimed a broad swing at her head.  She ducked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes,” Reyenna agreed.  “I will meet your lightsaber with my… um, electrified vibrosword is it?  I think they used to sell these at novelty shops on Balmorra.  To small children.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another swing, this time at her center.  Uncomfortably close.  She jumped back against a pile of rubble – leaving her nowhere left to run.  Krell raised his blade for a killing blow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He left his midsection open.  She lunged, and her practice blade scored a hit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He gasped as the electricity struck, but held his ground.  He reached out with his free hand and grabbed hold of her blade, gritting his teeth against the shock as he pried it from her hand and sent it flying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sith do not fear pain,” he snarled.  He raised his lightsaber again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna reached out with her mind.  She grabbed hold of a boulder, flung it at him.  He caught it in midair, sent it flying against a support beam.  The Temple walls shook in a way that was altogether too familiar.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t do that again,” Reyenna said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you giving me orders about how to kill you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am telling you, as someone who knows how these dig sites work.  You knock out that support beam, and we both suffocate under rock and dirt.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He smiled grimly.  “Well then,” he said as he raised his blade again, “You should probably stand still and die like a good little slave.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A raw, angry scream.  Not his, and not hers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sound came from a giant beast, its torso covered with spikes, its head adorned with three tall, sharp horns.  It leapt onto Krell, knocking him instantly to the ground.  His thirsty red warblade rolled to a halt directly at Reyenna’s feet.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She hesitated for the barest moment.  All she had to do was nothing, and her enemy would be removed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But once the beast was finished with Krell, it would turn to her.  She could not flee – If she returned without the holocron, her death at Harkun's hands would be at least as unpleasant as being consumed by the beast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The creature was at its most vulnerable right now, as it focused on the struggling Krell.  She brought the lightsaber down on the creature’s neck.  The sword’s dark energy cut right through armor, hide, and bone.  It was like cutting through butter.  As its head fell, Reyenna had to actually yank the blade back up to keep it from slicing into Krell.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Pure Blood lay on the ground, gasping.  He looked at the severed head, then at Reyenna.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You… killed the beast,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna searched the hilt, trying to determine how to deactivate the blade.  It turned out to be quite simple.  The press of a button, and the energy was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell reached for it.  She held it away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You may have your toy back if you promise this little feud is over.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He glanced again at the beast’s head.  “That was my Trial,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She shrugged.  “It was your blade that killed it,” she said.  “If you take its head back, who’s going to know?  I don’t think the creature’s going to tell them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell grudgingly renounced his revenge, and she returned his blade.  Then he drew himself up to full height.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honor has its demands,” he announced.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Honor?  Here?”  She almost laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do not mistake the degenerates that populate this place with true Sith,” he said.  “I owe you a debt, and will not leave it unpaid.  You completed my Trial.  Now I will help you finish yours.  With your permission, of course.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She hesitated, trying to see what his trap might be.  She finally decided a trap was unlikely.  If he meant to kill her, he could have done so the instant she returned his blade.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Plus, he was a Pure Blood.  He had doubtless studied exhaustively, under the very best tutors, before coming here.  She had no chance of freeing the Sith artifact, but he might know what to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very well,” she agreed.  “My puzzle waits in the Monument Room.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They spent the next several minutes clearing the scavengers that infested the monument room.  Once that was done, Krell walked up to the holocron, located within a seal near the top of a black pyramid.  He studied it intently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The pyramid must be meant to represent something,” Reyenna said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell scoffed.  “Marka Ragnos was a minor lord, not even worthy of a small tomb such as this.  The pyramid shape holds no meaning to the Sith.  I suspect all that is represented here is a lack of imagination and an affection for the color black.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sat cross-legged on the floor, adopting a meditative pose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you planning to think the crystal out?” Reyenna asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not every challenge can be overcome through brute force.  You have a quick wit, so you must have a brain.  Learn to use it.  It will save your life as surely as any blade will.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He closed his eyes and meditated for several minutes.  She stood guard in case the scavengers returned.  When he opened his eyes, he announced that he was ready.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He studied the holocron again.  “This is actually quite a simple lock,” he said.  “Any Sith, even the pretend Sith that occupy so much of this planet, could have had this out in a moment.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harkun said the Dark Council chose to leave it as a test for acolytes – ones like me, who are marked for failure.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A poor test," Krell replied.  "It’s not a question of intellect, but of knowledge.  The lock is unbreakable, if you don't know its secret.  If you do know it, then it is no problem at all."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So they've created a test for acolytes with no training... That can only be solved by someone with training?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Precisely." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell backed away, leaving the path to the holocron clear.  “Do you know how to make lightning?” he asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She frowned.  “I’ve seen it done."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Krell sighed impatiently. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What have you done with the Force, other than move rocks?”<br/><br/><br/></p>
<p>She told him of the telekinetic blast she had let loose on the training grounds.  He nodded, satisfied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We’ll start there.  Extend your hand, like so.”  He held his right hand out, leveled at the holocron.  She mimicked him.  “Good.  Now, focus on creating a telekinetic blast.  As you did in the training room, but this time not out of panic.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tried to focus on summoning the Force.  But without a life-or-death situation, she couldn’t manage it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Think back to the training room,” Krell instructed.  “What did you feel in that moment?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Panic,” she said.  “I knew that if I fell, Harkun would kill me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you fail here, Harkun will still kill you.  You need more than that.  Close your eyes, block out everything but my voice.”  She did so, and he repeated, more firmly: “How did you feel the instant before you blasted your opponent off his feet?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She focused on that moment.  She had felt frustrated.  The Rattataki was stronger than her, more skilled than her.  She was weak, helpless.  As helpless as when the guard had slashed his blade over her mother’s throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Something stirred.  Krell felt it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There,” he said.  “Whatever emotion you are feeling, hold it.  Cling to it like a lover.  Now, fan the flame – but slowly.  You must control it, not the other way around.  Let the pressure build.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna’s entire being felt alive.  Energy consumed her, crackling and spitting like the red beam of Krell’s blade.  It was hungry.  It needed to consume a target.  If she did not release it, then it would consume her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now generate your blast, but keep it controlled.  A narrow funnel of air, extending from the tips of your fingers to the holocron.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The energy leapt from her as she willed its release.  She had to clamp down on it to keep it from bursting destructively over them.  Gradually, she found the exact level of release to keep the air moving between her and her target.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Envision lightning," Krell said.  "You have felt the shock of the practice blade.  Focus on that sensation.  The tendrils of burning energy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was more complicated.  Reyenna’s first attempt resulted in flames, which she had to quickly halt to avoid setting their robes ablaze.  After a few more tries, she managed a crackle of lightning.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There it is,” Krell said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt exultant.  The energy was pure dark power, and it was hers to command.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A loud, clicking sound came from the monument.  A second later, the holocron was released.  It did not fall to the ground, but instead floated directly into her outstretched hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt flush with power and triumph.  Her eyes met Krell’s.  She was panting with the exultation of the moment, and she felt the sweat standing on her brow.  He looked vaguely uncomfortable as her eyes met his.  She reveled in that.  It was another kind of power.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She extended a hand to him.  “I don’t think we need to rush back to our Masters."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hesitated a moment, but she could sense that he was now caught in her spell.  He took her hand, and she went to him, savoring the warmth of his red skin against her own, much colder flesh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If anyone, slave or acolyte, came into the room and observed them, they knew better than to interrupt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A Thousand Steps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kalikori Village was just over an hour’s hike from the Jedi Academy.  There was no path, as such, and visits to the village were officially discouraged – But such visits were not forbidden, and there had been enough foot traffic in both directions to have created something of a trail through wear alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The village was small, made up of less than 200 Twi’leks.  It was little more than a collection of hand-constructed shacks, with two prefabricated habitation domes in the center.  A crude fence surrounded the perimeter, and the villagers had begun work on a second fence further out – An added barrier against the Flesh Raiders, and also additional protection for their crops and livestock.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Canlyn and Ashara entered the village, they were greeted by the sight of Twi’lek children, scampering excitedly around the village square.  Decorations and banners proclaimed the “Festival of Awakening.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, at least we’re here in time for a party,” Ashara chirped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are not here for festivities,” Canlyn reminded her friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But we are supposed to gain their trust.  No better way to do that than to join in.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A young boy was struggling to activate a sparkler, a device that created small-scale digital fireworks.  He could not get it to turn on and sat in the dirt, crying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara leaned down.  “May I take a look?” she asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The boy gazed at her, eyes wide as he took in her montrals.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your lekku look funny,” he said.  “What are those stripes?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara smiled gently.  “These are montrals,” she told him.  “I’m a Togruta, not a Twi’lek.  You can touch them, if you like.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The boy reached out and touched her montral.  He gasped.  “It feels like bone!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“More like a shell,” she replied.  “They let me sense movement around me.  Like the two men who just stepped up behind me and my friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn turned and saw two Twi’lek males, approaching.  They glared at the two padawans.  Ashara continued to look at the boy’s broken toy, trusting Canlyn to deal with the newcomers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Today is the Festival of Awakening,” the older of the men announced.  “Outsiders are not welcome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Canlyn, this is Ashara.  We mean no intrusion.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If you mean no intrusion, then be gone!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara pulled a screwdriver out of a pocket she had sewn into the inside of her robe.  She tightened one of the screws in the tube-like toy, then activated it.  Burst of multi-colored flames emerged from the tube, complete with the sound of explosions.  The men jumped back, startled, as the boy laughed and applauded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara turned the device off, handed it back to the boy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It had just come loose was all,” she told him.  “You might want to wait for dusk before turning it on – It’ll be prettier in the dark.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The boy gave her a hug, then scampered off with his fixed toy.  He had already turned it on again by the time he reached the other end of the square.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara turned to the Twi’leks, grinning.  “Sorry to startle you,” she said.  “Just a harmless sparkler.  His parents probably got it from one of the merchants around the Academy.  At least, I’m guessing it’s not from here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Twi’leks regarded her warily, but with less hostility than before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good of you to fix Emur’s toy,” the older man said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I had a younger brother, before my abilities manifested,” Ashara said.  “I don’t like to see children cry.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She walked toward them, extending a hand.  The older man shook first, introducing himself as Yuleph Phan, Master of Rituals.  The younger man was Opar Phan, his son.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Is there any way we could take part in this Festival?” Ashara asked.  “Sounds like a lot more fun than evening meditations at the Temple.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Opar laughed, clearly taken in by her friendly smile.  Yuleph gave a nod.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You could become honorary members of the village for the day,” he said.  “You would need to partake of the ritual of the Thousand Steps.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The Thousand Steps?” Canlyn asked, intrigued.  She enjoyed learning more about the rituals and cultures of different species.  “What is that?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuleph registered her enthusiasm and addressed her for the first time since their initial approach.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It is a sort of symbolic pilgrimage,” he replied.  “Members of our village take it when they come of age.  Our original matriarch, Kolovish, lives at the top of the mountain to the east.  Pilgrims carry a fire and light four beacons, evenly spaced along the path to the summit.  Those who are able to light all four beacons before the torch goes out become official members of our sect.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What of those who fail?” Canlyn asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuleph shrugged.  “As I said, it is symbolic.  Those who fail try again each following month.  We can extend you that same courtesy – But if you wish to join our festivities tonight, then I’m afraid you will need to succeed on the first try.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And no Jedi tricks,” Opar added, with a hint of his former suspicion.  “The fire from the torch or nothing.  And Matriarch Kolovish will know the difference.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn bowed her head.  “I would never disrespect your customs,” she promised.  “If the torch goes out, we will admit our failure.”  She glanced meaningfully at Ashara, who also bowed her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yuleph walked them to the foot of the path and lit a torch for them.  He passed it to Canlyn.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good fortune, Padawan,” he said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn and Ashara proceeded up the path.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don't know how you do it,” Canlyn said once they were out of Yuleph’s earshot.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do what?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“People just automatically respond to you.  I know it’s unseemly, but I confess to a bit of envy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They reached the first beacon.  Canlyn touched the torch to it, and watched as it ignited.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There’s no science to it, Lyn,” Ashara replied, as they began walking again.  “It’s just being friendly.  Give people a nice smile, do something to create a little bit of connection.”  She shrugged.  “It helps that I’m cute.  You’ve got that whole ‘distant cat’ thing going on.  But you should practice smiling a little – A good smile goes a long way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As they lit the second beacon, Canlyn attempted a smile.  Ashara shivered in mock fear.  “It looks like you’re planning to eat me!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They moved on, toward the third beacon.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“OK, maybe smiles don’t work for Cathar,” Ashara acknowledged.  “So try a little, you know, chit-chat.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Chit-chat?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“General conversation.  The weather, birds in the sky, foods.  Feel out what people like and dislike, and build the conversation around that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You mean lie?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No!” Ashara pouted in frustration as they lit the third beacon.  “Just pick what parts of the truth to tell.  When people think you share their interests, they like you better.  Like the old guy back there, um…”  She struggled for his name.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yuleph,” Canlyn supplied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right.  He was completely cold to you – Until you asked about this ritual.  The second he saw you were actually interested in it, I stopped existing and all his attention was on you.  If you’d tried chatting with him from the start, he might have started talking about rituals.  Then you’d have become interested and he’d have liked you, with no help from me at all.  Do you understand?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn nodded thoughtfully as she lit the final beacon.  “I think I understand,” she said.  “You are wise, my friend.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara giggled.  “Oh, I'm definitely not wise,” she said.  “But I actually lived in the world before I came here, and I know people.  Learn how to interact with people the way you do with records and rituals, and you’ll have the galaxy by a string.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You were right the first time, Canlyn Dessan.  Your friend is wise, in her own way.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The voice came from an old Twi’lek woman, who sat outside a large hut at the end of the path.  She leaned forward, peering at both of the Padawans.  Matriarch Kolovich, Canlyn surmised.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You know my name?” Canlyn said.  “How?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old woman smiled enigmatically.  “You lit the fires, and the torch yet burns,” she said.  “You have completed the Pilgrimage of the Thousand Steps.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She made a motion, and the torch’s flame extinguished.  <em>Force sensitive</em>, Canlyn observed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You are the original Matriach of Kalikori Village,” she said aloud.  “You are the one who brought the Twi’leks here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old woman nodded.  “Our teachings angered the ruling class on Ryloth.  They refused to recognize the authority of the matriarchs, and imposed restrictions on our sect.  Despite its claims to value religious freedom, the Republic Senate refused to intercede on our behalf.  Here on Tython, we can practice our ways in peace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, except for the Flesh Raiders,” Ashara interjected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old woman smiled ruefully.  “Except for the Flesh Raiders,” she acknowledged.  “But they are brutes, and our defenses grow stronger with each passing month.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Flesh Raiders recently attacked the Jedi Outpost,” Canlyn said.  “They were organized, and armed with blasters.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am aware,” Kolovich said.  “An outside influence controlled them.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“An influence that remains on Tython.”  Canlyn stepped forward.  "Do you know anything about a Jedi holo-recording?  It was stolen during the attack.  My Master believes someone from this village may have information."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kolovich stared into the distance a moment.  She nodded slowly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ask about a hunter named Nalen Raloch,” she said.  “I suggest allowing your friend to take the lead.  He is much revered in the village, and you will encounter resistance if you are perceived as accusing him.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn nodded.  “Thank you,” she said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Now, allow me to present you with your gifts,” Kolovich handed each of them a bronze insignia.  “These mark you as honorary members of our sect.  I fear I have no more to give.  We have very little, as you must know.  Still, I hope this symbol of belonging will grant you strength on the difficult path ahead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara frowned as she pinned the insignia to her robe.  “Difficult how?” she asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Kolovich regarded them with an expression of sadness.  “You each face a long journey.  I cannot see its end, but I can see your paths will diverge.  One will pass into darkness, the other into light.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sighed.  “I am tired,” she announced.  “I wish you both well on your journey.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn bowed to her.  “Thank you, Matriarch Kolovich.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old woman gave them a last, lingering look, her expression unreadable.  Then she withdrew into her hut, leaving the two Padawans to ponder her words as they walked another thousand steps downward, back to the Twi’lek village.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Visions of Blood & Bone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Reyenna returned to Harkun's office, the overseer was nowhere to be found.  Instead, a beautiful, pale-skinned blonde woman sat atop his desk.  Her black robes were laced with crimson patterns, so that it almost looked as if blood was spilling from her slim form.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Reyenna Desme?” the woman asked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her expression was genuinely friendly, but Reyenna sensed something of the predator about her, a glint of something hard in her translucent gray eyes.  Whoever this woman was, she was much more dangerous than Harkun could ever hope to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I am Darth Zash.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna immediately knelt and started to bow her head.  The woman laughed – a melodic, tinkling sound.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, do get up.  You won’t be much of an apprentice if you spend all your time on your knees.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna stood.  Zash’s hand remained outstretched.  She approached the Sith Lord, accepted her hand.  Hoping that this was the correct response, that she wasn’t expected to kiss her ring or somesuch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash kept hold of her, her fingers exploring the calluses left by the months in the mines.  “Such firmness,” she observed.  “Rough and strong – Not what anyone would expect from such a pretty slip of a girl.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She pulled Reyenna to her and sniffed her cheek.  Reyenna drew back instinctively, breaking free.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash laughed delightedly.  “Spirit, too!” she cried, echoing Spindrell's judgment from earlier.  “Yes, I think you would serve well.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She slid off the desk, moved toward Reyenna.  “You have recently tasted passion.  I can smell it on you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m afraid I just got back,” Reyenna said glibly.  “I haven’t had a chance to wash up.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She winced as the words left her mouth.  Flippancy with Harkun was one thing, but Zash was already far less predictable.  For all she knew, the Sith Lord might strike her down for impudence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash’s smile merely grew broader.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I enjoy a clever tongue,” she said.  “Should you become my apprentice, we will fence verbally over the finest delicacies in the galaxy.  Fail, and when Harkun kills you, I’ll have him remove your tongue and deliver it to me as an <em>hors d’oeuvres</em>.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The threat was made worse by how friendly Zash’s tone remained.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you retrieve the holocron?” she asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna handed her the crystal.  “I did have help,” she confessed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Your passionate friend?” Zash shrugged. “Never apologize for using someone to achieve a goal.  See those around you as tools.  Use them for a purpose, discard them when their usefulness is done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She tucked the holocron inside her robe.  “You’re wondering where Overseer Harkun has gone,” she observed.  “I sent him away.  I wish to assign your next Trial personally.”  Zash’s hand touched Reyenna’s cheek.  The acolyte shivered – the woman’s pale skin was ice cold, her caress like fingers of ice moving across her face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“This is not a traditional Trial,” Zash told her, “but a ritual that has existed for ten thousand years.  A rite of blood and bone.  It is usually reserved for Dark Lords.  The average acolyte would simply be consumed by its power.  But if you are the apprentice I am looking for, then you will survive.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And if I’m not?” Reyenna asked nervously.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The icy fingers dropped from her cheek.  When Zash spoke, her tone remained light, but her eyes were as hard as flint.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, that would mean you're useless to me.  As I said - A useless tool should be discarded.”  She smiled brightly at Reyenna.  "Shall we go, dear?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash led her through a maze of corridors.  Reyenna attempted to keep track of their route, but the labyrinthine twists and turns eventually became too much.  Her safe return would be entirely at Darth Zash’s discretion.  Exactly as the Sith Lord intended, no doubt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, they took a turn that ended at a plain stone wall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A dead end?” Reyenna was surprised.  Zash’s stride had been so confident, she hadn’t even considered that the woman might actually become lost.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash winked at her, then raised both hands.  She then blasted the wall with ice, then with fire.  As the fire melted the ice, covering the wall in water, she gave it a final blast - lightning.  The wall danced with electricity.  There was a low rumble, and a portion of the stone slid away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A hidden passage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come along,” Zash said, her voice sunny and happy.  “Blood and bone await.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The passage led to a long, spiral staircase, which descended into pitch darkness.  Zash insisted Reyenna go first, and absolutely forbade the use of light.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The dark must become your ally,” she instructed.  “Besides, any kind of torch might attract… unwanted visitors.”  There were sounds – insect-like chittering.  Reyenna guessed whatever made those noises would enjoy feasting on the flesh of an unwary acolyte; and that if that happened, Zash would not lift one finger to help.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her entire world became darkness.  Reyenna kept her focus was on her steps.  One foot in front of the other, finding the next stair and being sure of it before putting weight.  Repeating with the next step, and the next.  She could feel Zash’s breath on the back of her neck, and it was as cold as her touch had been.  Another predator, Reyenna reflected, doubtless ready to strike if she sensed any hint of vulnerability.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Eventually, they reached the bottom.  A motion from Zash, and a dull red light surrounded them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In the crimson glow, Reyenna saw another set of stairs.  Carved of stone, and leading down into a cave.  Through the mouth of the cave, she saw a rectangular pool, filled with red liquid.  Was the color just a reflection of Zash’s light?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The pool of blood,” Zash announced, dispelling that thought.  “You will go into that cave.  Inside is an altar, holding the skulls of failed acolytes.  Select a skull and bathe it in the pool.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Then what?” Reyenna asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You bring the skull, undamaged, back to me,” Zash said.  In the hellish glare that enveloped them, her skin looked as red as any Sith Pure Blood’s, and her sunny smile was a picture of demonic malevolence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That sounds too easy," Reyenna replied.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash touched her cheek again.  The feeling of ice chilled her very core.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh, my dear,” she whispered.  “There will be nothing easy about it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash's tongue touched the edge of her lips, almost like a reptile's tasting the air.  Reyenna shivered involuntarily.  She turned toward the cave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Leave your weapon," Zash ordered.  "You may rely only on The Force in there."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna surrendered her practice blade to Zash.  Then she descended the stone steps.  They were old, probably thousands of years old, and time had worn many cracks into the rock.  She took care not to stumble as she moved toward the chamber.  She remembered Spindrell and recited the words of the Sith Code, as if to draw strength from it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Peace is a lie,” she whispered.  “There is only passion.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The altar was not hard to find.  It was a simple platform, but made of pure bone – Doubtless the bones of failed acolytes.  The altar was enormous.  How many bones had been fused together to create it?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She continued her recitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Through passion, I gain strength.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Skulls were stacked atop the platform.  Some were old, dessicated.  Others were recent, some with visible flesh clinging to them.  One of the most recent skulls was a burned mass. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Kory.</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>“Through strength, I gain power."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She reached out to Kory’s skull – more a complete head, given that the flesh had yet to be stripped away by scavengers.  Reyenna couldn’t say why, but completing this task with the hapless girl’s head felt somehow right.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Through power, I gain victory.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She walked Kory’s head to the blood pool, dipped it into the crimson fluid.  She felt the blood cover her fingers, the palms of her hands.  Gorge rose in her stomach, which she forced down again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Through victory, my chains are broken,” she whispered, steadying herself.  “The Force shall free me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A howl from within the pool.  Reyenna almost dropped Kory’s skull, but maintained her grip as she backed away.  She registered that the burned flesh was now gone.  All that remained was a bare skull, reflecting pure red glow Darth Zash had summoned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A creature rose from within the pool.  A giant, pulsing abomination.  It opened its maw, and within were nightmare rings of razor-like teeth.  The monster undulated toward her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna held onto the skull with one hand and raised the other to the creature.  She remembered Arkarix Krell’s lesson, and willed lightning from her fingers to the fiend. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It cried out its agony, but continued to close in.  She moved back to the cave mouth, discovered that an invisible wall trapped her inside.  Apparently, the battle with the creature was part of her Trial.  She was trapped until the fight had ended, one way or another.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The fiend rose up to its full height.  Its body pulsed red with blood.  It lived within a pool of blood; doubtless it fed on the substance to stay alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna dove in a somersault, taking care to protect the skull as she rolled.  Zash had specified undamaged.  She did not want to survive this battle only to be sacrificed to the Sith Lord’s disappointment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lightning had caused it pain, but had not slowed it.  This time, she tried fire.  This was more effective.  The creature shrieked and thrashed, its gyrations shaking the cave.  It struck the bone altar, shattering it and sending the skulls flying in all directions.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna smelled the beast’s flesh, cooking like a giant blood sausage.  It was the most abhorrent scent she had ever experienced.  Far worse than Kory's burning flesh.  Worse even than when she had been assigned to dispose of the bodies in the Pit.  It took all her will to keep the fire focused on the fiend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The monster let out a final scream, its agony so absolute that it shredded Reyenna’s soul.  Then its body exploded.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Blood and burned flesh rained onto Reyenna’s body.  She closed her eyes and willed herself not to think about the substances covering her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She returned to the cave mouth.  The barrier had lowered.  Zash stood at the top of the stairs, waiting expectantly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well, you’ll definitely need a wash now,” Zash giggled as she took the skull.  “You did well, my dear.  To the best of my knowledge, which is extensive, you are the first acolyte to ever survive this ritual.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What was that beast?” Reyenna asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Blood fiend,” the Sith Lord responded with a shrug.  “A K’lor’slug modified with some genetic splicing and infused with Dark Side energy.  Each time the ritual is completed successfully, some slaves are sent into the Tombs to collect a new specimen to modify.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How often does this ritual take place?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“All members of the Dark Council must pass this test,” Zash said.  “Occasionally, a scholar will attempt it for the sake of knowledge.  Or Masters will send apprentices who have vexed them, which is generally a one-way journey for the apprentices.  Now hush, dear.  I must meditate on what you have brought me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash sat cross-legged on the ground.  She placed the skull directly in front of her.  She gestured to Reyenna to sit opposite.  "Touch the skull," she instructed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna reached out, touched the palm of her hand to the top of Kory’s skull.  Zash’s hand then covered her own, her frosty grip seeming to fuse Reyenna to the bone of the dead acolyte.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Her name was Kory,” Zash said softly. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”  Reyenna was surprised.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Meek, limited Force potential.  She hoped for your aid.  You were right not to give it - She was beyond any assistance you might have rendered.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes.”  Reyenna was uncomfortable with the inquiry.  “Does any of this matter?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash grinned.  “The choice of skull always matters.  That you knew her, even in passing, makes the results far stronger than if you had simply chosen a random subject.  The lesson of her weakness is fused to you.  It will inform your path.  Close your eyes.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna obeyed. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A vision surrounded her.  She was in a world of red, wandering a corridor of bleeding walls.  A staircase of blood-covered bone stood before her.  She ascended the stairs, taking care not to slip in the pools of blood at her feet.  To either side of her were broken bodies, all of them burning.  Though the figures she saw could not possibly be alive, still they managed to scream.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She sat on a throne.  Bone, covered with blood that congealed around her robes.  A demonic beast stood at her side, grinning, its teeth the sharpest razors.  The creature turned to her, spoke, its voice a rumble of Darkness incarnate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I have not yet sated my hunger.  Who shall I devour next?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Her mother’s face, regarding her with sadness.  <em>“My baby girl.”  </em>A razor sliced open her throat.  The creature laughed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A young woman, about Reyenna’s age, approached.  Cybernetic implants were visible on her forehead and over her left eye, but they had been carefully placed, acting almost as cosmetic accessories.  The woman wore a fine silk robe, which became soaked as she knelt in the blood at Reyenna's feet.  She stared up, and Reyenna was surprised to see not deference, but defiance, in her eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I will do whatever you demand, for the sake of my crew and my mission.  But I refuse to be your victim, or your plaything.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Back in the Pit, screaming at the guards who had murdered her mother: <em>“I am not your plaything!”  </em>Their forms were now skeletons that shattered as they became the focus of her fury.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Suddenly, she stood before a mirror, its frame bone, its surface a smooth sheen of blood.  She became furious, hurling an object at the mirror.  The blood surface broke exactly like glass, shattering into a thousand pieces.  Her reflection stared back at her a thousand times through each of the crimson shards.   </p>
<p> </p>
<p>A female Togruta, eyes wide with shock.  <em>“What have I done?”  </em>A male Twi'lek in the body armor of a Republic Trooper, staring grimly at her.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>Then her own voice, surrounding her:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>“I understand now.  It’s so simple, really.  I understand everything…”</em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>The vision ended.  She was back in the cave, sitting cross-legged on the floor with Lord Zash.  Her heart raced.  She opened her eyes, staring across Kory’s skull at the beautiful Sith Lord.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“What did I see?” she breathed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Bits of the past, bits of the future,” Zash said.  “Hopelessly distorted, of course.  I’m still deciphering the things I saw when I completed this ritual, and that was… some time ago.  Still, everything you saw <em>will </em>come to pass.  Minus all the blood and bone, for the most part – Those are just the physical vehicles for the vision.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The images whirled around Reyenna’s mind again.  The creature, the broken mirror, the bodies.  She felt as if she might collapse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then she realized something, and started to laugh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash frowned.  “I hope the vision didn’t shatter your mind.  I have no use for a broken apprentice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Reyenna shook her head, still laughing.  “The future, don’t you see?” she gasped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Oh.”  Zash nodded indulgently, smiled.  “Yes, I understand.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She rose, extending a hand to help Reyenna to her feet.  They looked up at the spiral staircase, as the red light dimmed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Zash sighed.  “It is a rather a lot of stairs.  I know it goes against the whole notion of testing one’s resolve, but I sometimes wish the ancient Sith had possessed more of penchant for elevators.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They began to ascend, again in absolute darkness.  Reyenna took each step carefully, just as she had on the way down, but her heart felt light.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>If everything in the vision came to pass, that meant she had a future.  What she had beheld was bizarre, even horrifying – But Harkun’s face had not even featured.  She didn’t know whether she would live for another year, or another century.  But she knew that when her time came, Harkun would not be the one to kill her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She would not die here.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Forbidden Knowledge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Twi’lek Festival of Awakening began at dusk.  The entire population of Kalikori Village emerged to sing, dance, and celebrate.  Twi’lek religious leaders stood at the corners of the square, telling stories both of their faith and of their pilgrimage to set up this community on Tython.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara joined eagerly in the dancing, while Canlyn moved among the speakers, absorbing as much information as she could about this culture.  At Ashara’s urging, she did not ask about Nalen, trusting to her friend to uncover that information. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>After an hour of dancing, the Twi’leks began setting up a feast.  Canlyn felt herself growing impatient, but wrestled against the impulse.  Impatience was unbecoming of a Jedi. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara approached, beaming with childlike enthusiasm.  “These Twi’leks know how to dance!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We are not here for revelry,” Canlyn reminded her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Relax, Lyn.  I asked about Nalen.  Matriarch Kolovich was right.  To these villagers, he’s a hero – and I can’t really argue with them.  He fought off a Flesh Raider attack a couple months ago, and has helped organize their defenses ever since.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn felt embarrassed at her impatience.  She should have known Ashara would live up to her duty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nalen left to trade at the Jedi Outpost when the attack happened," Ashara continued.  "He'd have seen the attack start, and he would have been in a position to steal an artifact in the confusion.  ANd he hasn't been seen here since.  These people are dirt poor.  I'd say he took advantage of an opportunity to pilfer something valuable."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn doubted it was that simple.  Nalen stole an artifact that just happened to be a holo-recording of the first Fallen Jedi?  Unlikely.  Still, his absence from the village since this morning’s attack was equally unlikely to be coincidence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Do they have any idea where he might be?” Canlyn asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ever since the attack on the village, he’s made camp in a cave near Flesh Raider territory,” Ashara said, nodding toward the mountains west of the village.  “Seems like a good place to start.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The terrain to the west of the village was difficult to traverse, and progress was slow.  Canlyn insisted they needed to move silently, so as not to advertise their presence to either Nalen or any Flesh Raiders in the area.  The combination of stealth and hostile terrain made it a longer journey than expected, and it was almost midnight when they finally reached the cave.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nalen’s camp was at the end of a long tunnel.  His tent was there, and Canlyn noted glowing embers in his campfire, but the Twi’lek was nowhere in evidence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She felt a prickle on the back of her neck.  Force energy, but not the friendly emanations that had surrounded her throughout her training.  This was something cold and vicious.  Something Dark.  She glanced at Ashara, who nodded.  Her friend felt it, too.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They followed the sensation into Nalen's tent.  They found the holocron inside a heavily-patched bag made out of an animal’s skin.  Canlyn reached for it, but the Darkness within the crystal made her hesitate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ashara tensed.  “We’re not alone,” she said, her montrals reading a presence behind them.  Canlyn's fur rose, and her muscles tensed as she turned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A Twi’lek male stood at the entrance to the tent, sneering at them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You Jedi make a lot of noise.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His voice was rough, angry.  He carried a crude but effectively-fashioned spear.  Canlyn’s night vision was strong, and she was able to discern dried blood on the tip.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Nalen Raloch?” she asked.  “I am Canlyn Desan, this is Ashara Zavros.  We are Padawans of - ”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t care what your names are,” he snapped.  “This is my camp.  You have no right to be here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You have no right to steal Jedi artifacts!” Ashara snapped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn stepped in front of her friend.  “We have come to recover the holocron.  Once we have it, we will leave you in peace.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ah, yes.  The holocron.”  Nalen sneered.  “It belongs to me now.  I purchased it this morning, from a Jedi.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A Jedi?” Canlyn frowned.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He said his name was Calief.  He traded it for a few skins, said he sensed I would make better use of it than the Jedi would.  I intend to do exactly that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn and Ashara exchanged a glance.  They started to move in opposite directions, circling around the Twi’lek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The holocron,” Canlyn said.  “What has it told you?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nalen cocked his head, regarding the two young women.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There are hidden wonders, Jedi, and my journey has just begun.  Rajivari has shown me how to punish our enemies.  Tython will belong to us – not to Flesh Raiders, and not to you!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He raised a hand, and the holocron leapt toward him.  Canlyn reached out with her senses, diverted it to her own hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nalen grimaced.  “Fine,” he spat.  “Have your precious artifact.  Rajivari has already shown me the path!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He raised the hand clutching the spear.  Canlyn tensed her leg muscles to jump on him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did not throw the spear.  Instead, the walls of the cave began to shake.  Rocks began to fall.  He had used the Force, as taught to him by Rajivari, and was collapsing the cave around them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Run,” he called to them. “Run or die!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn leapt at him, but a telekinetic blast knocked her back to Earth.  Ashara cried out for her, rushed to her side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We must catch him!” Canlyn shouted, struggling to her feet.  But Nalen was already gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We need to get out of here!” Ashara said, yelling to be heard over the rumbling of the rocks.  “Now!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They ran through the collapsing tunnel.  Rocks fell around them.  Canlyn and Ashara focused their minds, creating a shield from the cave-in.  The rockfall and their own adrenaline distracted them, making it a challenge to maintain the shield, but they held firm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They reached open air, collapsing onto the ground and gulping in oxygen.  The mouth of the cave filled in behind them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I do not like tunnels!” Ashara declared between gasps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn looked around, searching for any sign of the Twi’lek hunter.   He couldn’t possibly have gone far, but he must have been shielding himself.  She could not see or sense a thing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She looked down at the holocron, still clutched in her hand.  Such a small crystal to have caused so much harm.  “Master Yuon was right,” she mused.  “Rajivari’s holocron holds hidden lessons of darkness.  From beyond the grave, he has made Nalen Raloch his final apprentice.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I have a bad feeling about this," Ashara said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Canlyn could not find grounds to argue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was Corporal Cress Va’Shann’s second visit to Coruscant.  If he had his way, it would be his last.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Senate had wanted him to testify in person about the pirate intercept, the one that had freed so many Republic citizens who had been captured to sell as slaves.  Sergeant Bixwill could not attend; his injuries would take time to heal.  That left Cress as the senior member of the squadron.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The senators had taken turns praising his courage and resourcefulness under fire, gushing about how he had turned a calamity into a victory.  Cress had wanted to shout back at them.  Good soldiers were dead, and most of them did not need to be.  Had they been issued something as simple as smoke grenades as part of their standard gear, they could have stopped the pirates immediately.  Private J'Teel would still have fallen, but no other soldiers would have had to join her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn’t say that, of course.  He was a good soldier, and he stuck to his prepared talking points.  He gave credit to Sergeant Bixwill, who had put himself in harm’s way to pinpoint the pirates’ position.  He gave credit to the men, who had held up under fire and followed his lead in a chaotic situation.  He respectfully pointed out that smoke grenades would have simplified the operation, but he made sure to keep all rancor out of his voice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When the session finally ended, he returned to his room and called the hospital, checking on Bixwill.  The sergeant was asleep, but his wife gave Cress a thorough update.  He was making a good recovery physically, but was struggling with the Psych evaluation.  He would likely end up on desk duty, career prospects diminished as a result.  Another good soldier, transformed into a casualty of bureaucracy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Another call came in.  A Republic Trooper, a veteran judging from his age and the scars on his face.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Cress Va’Shann?" the man said.  "My name is Harron Tavus.  I’m the commander of HAVOC Squad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cress stood instantly to attention.  HAVOC Squad was legendary, the founding unit of the Republic’s special forces division.  In an age where the public had lost much faith in their leaders, HAVOC Squad's victories were a much-needed boost to morale, a reminder that the Republic was capable of greatness when it was run properly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It's an honor, sir,” Cress said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tavus waved away the response.  “I’m not fishing for compliments, soldier.  Your intercept was a good piece of work.  You saved your squad, and freed a large number of slaves that were almost certainly bound for the Empire.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cress sighed.  He’d been hearing variations on this all day.  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If we’d had proper equipment, with backup forces at the ready, there would never have been a problem,” Cress said.  “Good men are dead because we didn’t have the tools to do the job right.  We had to improvise and shoot our way out because the Senate wanted to say they were doing something without bothering to provide adequate resources.  My sergeant would be healthy and on the front lines if the politicians cared as much about results as they did appearances.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cress fell silent, cringing as he realized how much he had just said.  “I apologize, sir,” he said.  “That outburst was unbecoming.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tavus laughed in response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I would pay good money to see someone tell those blowhards all of that, right to their pompous faces,” the captain said.  “You might just be one of us after all, Sergeant.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cress started.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sir?  I’m sorry, I’m a corporal.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Not anymore,” Tavus replied.  “Your CO will make this official in the morning, but I wanted to be the one to tell you.  You’re being promoted, for your sins.  This time tomorrow, you’ll be on your way to the biggest mess the Republic has going.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Cress’ eyes widened, as Tavus grinned broadly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sergeant Cress Va’Shann?  Welcome to HAVOC Squad.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>NEXT: “YOU CAN’T SAVE EVERYBODY”</p>
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